


Lord of Twilight: Remixed

by Ishti



Category: Aveyond
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crack, Aveyond 3, Aveyond: Lord of Twilight, Gen, Randomized Cast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-09
Updated: 2017-11-09
Packaged: 2019-02-07 22:22:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ishti/pseuds/Ishti
Summary: I rolled a completely random cast for a completely random game, and here's what I ended up with.Mel has to save the world. Her allies are one prickly prince, two vampire hunters of questionable integrity, and three different agents of evil pulling three different ways to win her favor. Yvette is also there.





	Lord of Twilight: Remixed

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from the Aveyond forums under the thread "Randomized Cast Game!"

First, there was Mel. Just Mel. No surname. No family. No place in the world. She was fine that way. Happy, perhaps, although were you to ask her later, she might say she only considered herself happy because she wasn't exactly  _un_ happy and she didn't have an especially exacting metric against which she could measure her "happiness".

She was requested by name to perform the Clockwork Mansion job. This didn't trouble her; she was easily Harburg's number-one heist mastermind, at least to those who knew about such things. The ease of the job she performed might have tipped her off, but she was secure in her lifetime of experience,  _comfortable,_ far more confident than any low street criminal had a right to be.

The vampires were a surprise.

The confrontation happened very quickly. Sprinting down the forest road to Thais, Mel still wasn't sure of everything that had just happened. All she cared about, in an ironic twist, was fleeing the darkness of night until the monsters couldn't track her anymore. That's what John told her to do.

He'd claimed to be a vampire hunter, but he had the air of an outlaw about him. He was visibly twice Mel's age, and she was intrigued despite her misgivings, wondering what wisdom the seasoned rogue could impart. He was certainly handy with a wooden javelin.

He was second, and Marge was third. Neither of the vampire hunters gave surnames, either, and this felt reassuring to Mel. The confidence of a thief was typically won in antithetical ways, and Mel's was no exception. John told her to run, and Marge made a spectacular show of distracting the vampires on the main road so Mel could flee through the mountains--and she ran, and fled through the mountains, and only briefly wondered when she began placing trust in rakishly-clad individuals with concealed weapons and unwashed hair.

Then again, that description fit her perfectly, too.

She arrived in Thais before sunrise. John had instructed her to find his "old friend" Ulaf in the School of War and Magic. Ulaf turned out to be the headmaster; apparently outlaws-turned-vampire-hunters could have connections in interesting places. He sent her to Professor Gray, and  _he_ sent her to Harpsbren Manor. Mel never appreciated being blatantly tested. The entire setup in the manor was clearly devised for screening Professor Gray's potential students. Yet, she played along. She didn't acknowledge the sunken sense in her gut that, had she no goal in Thais, no tasks to accomplish, she would break down in the shadow of crushing uncertainty.

Not that Mel ever acknowledged her anxieties.

Fourth was Spook. Or... whatever his real name was. He was another thief, but Mel never saw him around the school, so he must not have been in training. He was the one to show her the window she could climb through at the manor. And he helped with the switch inside. And--ugh, Mel was sick of his "help"; she was more than competent. She wished he'd leave her alone, but at the same time, he was... familiar, in a way. He greeted her like an old friend, a companion, a partner-in-crime.

Fifth was Nicolas. Mel found him insufferable, but it seemed he found Mel insufferable, as well. And they were fine with that. To Mel, it felt honest. Refreshing. She bit back the thought, but his secretly amicable disdain was far preferable to Spook's dogged geniality. He invited her to the tavern after classes, an olive branch which Mel appreciated more than he could know. She had her secrets, and he surely had his.

Not that Nicolas' secrets could remain so for long. Mel was assigned to catch a traitor in the palace, and she found him in the royal quarters, and... well, the diadem tipped her off before he could explain what he was doing. Nicolas' princehood felt almost like betrayal to Mel. She wasn't sure when she'd connected so closely with the boy, but her sentiment was stripped away like a fragile tapestry.

Regardless, Mel did catch the traitor with the aid of her probationary friend. Nicolas explained to her that he wanted to "be a normal kid" while he still could, and Mel countered that he'd "done a very haughty job of it". He didn't contest that.

Spook met her on the way home. He fawned unsubtly over Mel in her ballgown. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to take it off and burn it.

Nicolas wasn't in school the next day. Mel didn't have to wonder long about why.

Dameon was the sixth.

Mel met him at the palace. She was summoned there by... someone. Nicolas lingered by the door to greet her. She approached the throne, where she first saw the stranger with luxurious golden robes and a half-shaven head of hair. He was explaining to the king and queen about an orb. The Orb of Light, in Naylith, created by Mordred Darkthrop.

He turned to see Mel, and his face went slack, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. Terribly undignified for a... what was it? A sun priest. A little color rose to his cheeks. Mel rolled her eyes. How incredibly disingenuous.

The king filled her in with the information she'd missed. Apparently the orbs could only be activated by Darkthrop heirs (okay) and there was only one Darkthrop heir alive (that's not great) and... it was her (oh. no. no no no.)

Dameon gushed with reassurance. There was nothing wrong with her, and she wasn't inherently  _evil,_  and she would be completely safe in the company of himself and the royal guard but mostly himself and oh  _gods_ Mel did not  _care,_  she just wanted him to shut  _up_  so she could process what the king told her. At some point Nicolas (bless the boy) stepped forward and asked Dameon to accompany him outside. When they returned, Dameon was quiet.

In the interim, the king told her that the sun priest wanted her to journey with him to Naylith to acquire the Orb of Light. She would have resisted, but something in his tone told her that there was more than just eternal night at stake. Besides that, she'd been in Thais for only two weeks, and she could never safely return to her old life in Harburg. There was nothing keeping her here. Might as well save the world and make it interesting.

Mel and Dameon were nearly out the palace door when the queen called Nicolas forward and chided him for being an irresponsible heir. He was to join the adventuring party and find a bride on his travels. Whatever. It would be nice to have him along. He was... genuinely a friend, Mel realized.

Their first night on the road was nearly sleepless for Mel. She had repeated dark, dark dreams, unsure whether she was awake behind her eyes or plunging into some inky realm within her subconscious. She heard whispers, and it took hours before she could focus on them, understand what they were saying.  _"Mel. You've almost found yourself. Paradise is within reach."_

She woke up in a cold sweat before dawn and shivered in her bedroll until Nicolas roused and sat with her.

Spook found them the following day. He offered his services as a skilled rogue. Mel pointed out that she, too, was a skilled rogue. Spook reminded her of the test in Harpsbren Manor. Nicolas reluctantly agreed that the traveling party could use additional members skilled with sharp objects. Dameon seemed... less than pleased.

Spook, of course, acted like Mel's kith. He apparently thought they were naturally intertwined just because of their parallel professions. Mel didn't bother telling him that would never be the case. She answered his probing questions bluntly and dispassionately. In her opinion, Dameon and his inexplicable crush-at-first-sight were far worse. At first, Mel was certain he had dishonest motives. One way or another, after a few days of traveling together, he seemed to pick up on her signals--that, or on the threat behind Nicolas' sharp words--and learned that she wasn't the type to appreciate doting. Mel was eternally grateful for the uninhibited prince.

Nicolas did make a few gestures as if he, too, meant to pursue Mel, but she knew his intentions weren't truly romantic. The dwarven love sonnet was a bit much. He couldn't even finish reading it through to her before they both dissolved into laughter. Mel told him she wouldn't want to be queen for all the gold in the world, and that was the end of it, although she did promise to help him search for a noble girl who wasn't entirely intolerable. She found a kindred soul and steadfast friend in Nicolas.

When they reached the summit of Naylith and learned of the quarter keys, Mel immediately suggested searching for the vampire hunters who initially saved her from Gyendal and his minions. Dameon agreed they were likely to have valuable insight. Spook was silent.

John and Marge were easy to find. It seemed they'd stayed in Harburg, and were using Darkthrop Keep as a base of vampire-slaying operations. Sunlight torture, apparently, was less a gruesome affair and more a cruel one. The sight of a vampire bound and gagged in the east-facing window waiting for the dawn was too much for Spook, who left the tower to wait outside. Mel, on the other hand, was delighted to see John and Marge, and they her. They agreed to accompany the party on their quest for the quarter keys, leaving the unfortunate vampire tied up alone.

Merciless or not, John behaved like a mentor to Mel. He taught her how to swing a rapier, and although she wasn't great at it, he purchased her one as a gift in Harburg. His instruction put a swagger in Mel's step and a rhythm she'd never before felt in combat. She was pretty sure he made her laugh on average three times as much per day as she'd laughed as a lone burglar. When she considered it, she hadn't laughed much at all... nor had she made many friends in her seventeen years--and she'd taught herself everything she knew up until now. Things were changing.

The dreams continued. Mel learned to sleep through them, even as the voice became clearer. In the snug inn tucked away in Gheledon, it had said she would  _"rise like the sun to meet a powerful destiny."_ When they made camp at the summit of Naylith, it grew almost unbearably sharp; Mel thought the voice, telling her to  _"earn the inheritance through force of will,"_  sounded like that of a young girl. When she fell asleep in the tower in Harburg, it said,  _"the power you seek belongs to you and no other. Reclaim your title from the false magnate, Lord of Twilight."_

Yvette was the seventh. They met her, a traveler from Harakauna, at the inn in Stormbend. John said that plenty of pretty blondes had lusted after him, and that all of them moved on to better things eventually. They left Stormbend the next morning. She was cozy in his bedroll that night.

Their journey, the arbitrary, minor missions they had to accomplish just to find each key, became a blur to Mel. She let Dameon and John take the lead, falling back to follow. She'd spent her whole life taking orders from others, and she wasn't about to start getting creative now. That sounded exhausting. Plus, it was pretty fun to spend her days exchanging snide comments with Nicolas. Each day they picked a new party member to roast within earshot. Most of them took it well. They learned that Marge laughed like a foghorn. Dameon grew a little prickly when they blasted his goatee. Spook, who never bothered hiding his distaste for Dameon, snickered for the rest of the day.

The sun priest sat away from the camp that night, contemplative against a brittle tree in the Mire Woods. Mel regretted their teasing just a little, as they'd gotten lost on their way to Witchwood and they might've made it to the town by nightfall had Dameon not been distracted. She joined him under the trees. As she approached, she noticed his face was odd. Relaxed, perhaps. It sprung back into action when he saw her.

She greeted him with more cordiality than usual, offering peace. He responded fondly. She requested to sit with him and he affirmed. She asked whether they'd truly hurt his feelings. He laughed a little and said no. She sniffed, said that was good. They sat in silence for a moment. She asked him to be honest for a moment, and he agreed. She asked whether he truly liked her. He said nothing, but sighed through his nose.

Mel said she knew when he was acting. She said she didn't know why he was doing it, and she didn't need to know. She told him to cut the crap.

He looked thoughtful, then nodded. She caught him, he said. That's fine.

They both laid down a foot apart in the muddy grass to face the stars.

They spoke a little more, Dameon about being a sun priest, Mel about the jobs she did back in Harburg. Mel knew that she was meeting Dameon for the first time. She had secrets. She could accept his, too.

Mel slept for five minutes that night before she heard the howling. It was as if a pack of ghouls bayed all at once in somehow raucous whispers. She bolted upright, and her eyes snapped open. She didn't see the party, or the camp, or the Mire Woods. The grass, the trees, even the sky were a sickly dull shade of purple; her eyes tried to adjust but struggled to distinguish between the things around her. She couldn't stand.

She heard the girl's voice again, a wailing sigh in the dark.

 _"He is a deceiver,"_  the voice hissed.  _"In every world, he is doomed to beguile and betray. He seeks your rightful power for the gain of another."_

Mel grabbed her head in her hands. That voice was  _inside_ her, scratching its nails against the walls of her skull. She tried to cry out, but the breath stopped in her throat.

_"Two of your number wish to ensnare your potency for their own ends. You must not give in. Two fates diverge at your feet: glorious dominance, and lifelong, helpless servitude."_

Mel could only shake her head, feebly trying to dislodge the voice. She squeezed her eyes shut in pain.

_"Open your eyes and face destiny, mother."_

She had no control. She opened her eyes, and saw.

Nox was the eighth.


End file.
